


Crimson Daybreak

by Player_1



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Data Simulation, Daybreak Town (Kingdom Hearts), Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lots of Denial and Repression, Player got some problems, Post-Apocalypse(?), Post-Keyblade War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD (implied), Union Leaders & Chirithy: This is fine...(But it's not), Union X canon divergent(?), possible mental illness, slight introspection, violence mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Player_1/pseuds/Player_1
Summary: In a world forever bathed in red, there may be hope in the ruin, but there's no fixing what's already broken.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Crimson Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> So...yeah. Because of this [wonderful idea](https://cyhiraeth.tumblr.com/post/190690553493/kingdomheartsnyctophiliac) presented by Scala textures in ReMind, how about I make a contribution to this visual hellscape (with a little something extra, as a treat)?  
> :)

Every day in Daybreak Town always felt the same. But regardless of the monotony, it was a comforting feeling; from dawn to dusk, from days to weeks, everything ran smoother than a well-oiled machine, not a single fault or wear in sight. You were used to the frigid air lingering through the open window, a natural alarm-clock to start the day off energized and bright. With a simple hop off your bed, slipping your shoes and jacket on, you were ready to face the morning with a bang. 

_The shattered, dust-covered glass twinkled in cruel disarray,  
cutting through the only source of light in the room.  
_ _And as the bed groaned with age and discomfort,  
covers riddled with musk and holes,  
they slept through every night without a care.  
They sneezed, sending a cloud of dust in the air as they grumpily blamed the pollen.  
The flowers were dead long ago, its place on the windowsill no longer mourned by the sun._

You counted off every step it took to reach the Market District, the bountiful display of fruit and pastries lined up for all to see.   
You paid the Moogle for a apple and a fresh cheese danish, bidding the shopkeeper good luck as you started on your daily Mission run.

_Days before the bell even rang, the markets were the first to be ransacked.  
_ _The colorful tents were torn to ribbons,  
uselessly fluttering in the wind as they failed to keep the sun away.  
_ _The flies and maggots permeated the area, their spoils laid out like a silver platter._

While the Heartless were surprisingly scarce, they were still tough nonetheless. Wielding the Keyblade felt like second-nature to you, and you felt rightfully proud of it.   
Maybe when Master Invi or Master Ava come around, you'll be praised for your outstanding work.

_They mindlessly trudged through the squaller of discord,  
stepping on puddles of blood like it was a simple rainy day.  
_ _No matter how long the dog-eat-dog battles have ended, their remnants refuse to disappear,  
a morbid reminder of the greed and wrath left behind.  
_ _As they wiped their boots of dust and mud, the ichorous stain of death refused to fade.  
_ _The leather had already become a darker shade of red._

No matter how busy they were, you were glad to have Ephemer and Skuld by your side. It was a breath of fresh air to be able to meet again, to just talk about anything that came to your mind and so much more. While you were happy about the quartet that wrangled you into their team, it was good to look back to the friends you first made so long ago.

_It was easy for the Leaders' to cover up the Foretellers' deaths.  
It was easy to let the Dandelions forget their nightmares,  
to just let them do whatever they desired with their new Spirits and Pride Shift.  
Ephemer still couldn't look his dearest friend in the eyes,  
his smiles growing dim and his heart still ached since that day.  
  
He wondered if they would notice their tattered jacket,  
no longer providing warmth or protection from the elements.  
He wondered if they would notice the simple white shirt dyed in their own blood,  
a monument of the Masters' sins etched just below the surface._

Nevertheless, after all the Missions and running around the World, it was always a treat for you to sit back and relax at Fountain Square. You could just let the hours roll by, watching the wielders travel to and fro the district, count up your Lux findings, grab a quick bite at the Moogle shop, or even talk with Chirithy to pass the time. It was a gentle, almost considerate peace; just watching others with alike minds but different dreams go about their day.

_Chirithy knew that the Leaders were busy,  
but he knew they avoided the Fountain like the plague._  
 _It was a surprise to hear of Ventus doing the same,  
as the young blonde loved hiding in plain sight,  
but he knew it was a understandable loss.  
  
_ _A young musician was playing his sitar by the fountain,  
its stonework withered and frayed, the water stopped flowing ages ago.  
_ _A hotheaded vixen tapped her foot by the Marketplace door,  
_ _torn from its hinges and shrapnel rotting away.  
Sitting on a rickety old box, a young man was playing a game of cards.  
The familiar crackle of a Darkling, mild and subdued, set the Spirit's heart on edge.  
Whether it was on purpose or he managed to capture it,  
unfortunately so, would remain a mystery._

Just like clockwork, as soon as the streetlamps went on, you went back home. As you got yourself comfy, snuggled in nice and warm, you smiled out the window to the bountiful canvas of stars.

_Just like clockwork, when the full moon was somberly glowing,_   
_they were an inconsolable mess.  
They trembled in their patchwork bedroom, crying like a banshee,  
screaming their lungs out about how everything was so kind and strange,  
how nothing was right and everything was wrong, so so wrong, battered and broken.  
They cried on and on about the World being demolished,  
scattered and razed, and all that Chirithy could do was fight the nightmare away.  
They wouldn't remember, even without his help, but the fear kept growing stronger..._

You went to sleep with a smile, dreaming of all the places to go and people to meet. Just like every other day, it was just another morning, spinning the cycle once more for something so simple and clean, familiar and exciting and so full of Light.

_'We can fix this.'  
It was a simple mantra, a broken chorus ringing through the tower halls.  
'We know what to do. We were chosen for the role.'  
There were only tired eyes and broken voices, their tears running dry long ago.  
'We just need more time...Please, just keep up the fantasy.'  
Past the city bathed in rubble and red, the old clocktower remained untouched,  
its porcelain walls rooting jealousy deep into the Leaders' hearts.  
  
The only thing they could do was wait,  
just watch their hope for the Worlds play about in 0's and 1's.  
Just wait for the future to come, to scatter their dreams like dandelions in the wind.  
  
_

_'We just want to be happy...Is that too much to ask?'_

**Author's Note:**

> In my opinion, I tried to make this into a mish-mash of We Happy Few kind of repression and Desert Bluff brainwashing/denial (from Welcome to Night Vale, btw). Of course, since there's nothing here to say how Daybreak Town turned out to be after the War, I went for the next best thing!


End file.
